


Spark of Inspiration

by Zai42



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Electricity, Femdom, Gags, Knifeplay, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Cel needs some help getting out of their head, sometimes.
Relationships: Sasha Racket/Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29
Collections: Femdom Exchange 2020





	Spark of Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vogelwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogelwrites/gifts).



Sasha knew who she was. She was shadow and silence, oil-slick darkness, the slow drip of amber before it snapped into freefall. Cel was brilliant and bright, the flash of lightning in the darkest hour of a storm, but sometimes Sasha wondered if Cel knew that about themselves.

There was a rhythm to this. People were so rarely predictable to Sasha, and Cel even less so than most, but there was a logic to it like the inner workings of a lock. Lightning, after it strikes, burns away into the atmosphere. Cel, brilliant and bright, was not the exception to this rule that they were with so many other rules.

Cel was still talking as Sasha wound the ropes around them, rabbit-quick and breathless. “I think the real issue is going to be controlling the explosion,” they muttered, going up on their knees as Sasha nudged them. “Right now the exploding is perfect, really, just the right size and temperature, it just keeps happening before I want it to - ”

Sasha let them babble, only half listening. Her aesthetic appreciation tended more towards the inorganic - jewelry, knives, particularly fancy silverware - but her ropework crisscrossed against Cel’s body sparked a sense of pride low in her belly, something almost possessive. Something like she felt when she was handling her favorite daggers - this was hers, and it was dangerous, and it would not hurt her, because it was _hers_. She tugged at a length of rope and Cel’s voice stammered to a stop as every knot tightened into place at once, at their chest, wrists, the junction of their legs. Their hips twitched and they made a soft noise.

“S-Sasha,” they said, and Sasha waited, hovering in their blind spot, one hand low on their back so they wouldn’t wonder where she was. “Um. Do you think - you don’t have to, if you want it available for other things - it’s just I’m having a hard time, tonight, for some reason, and I’d really like - but it’s up to you, of course - ” Sasha slid her hand up Cel’s back, tangled a hand in their hair, and pulled them backwards, spine arching, so they could look at her upside-down. She arched an eyebrow. Cel swallowed. “Could you gag me?”

Sasha snorted, untangled her hand from Cel’s hair and let them slump forward again. They sighed, tension bleeding out of them, and murmured “Thank y - ” before Sasha slipped a knotted length of rope between their lips.

With Cel’s babbling cut off, Sasha hesitated. “You gonna be all right with the blindfold?” she asked quietly, and Cel nodded.

The blindfold, Sasha was willing to admit, was more for her benefit than Cel’s. It was easier to strut around, to be confident in her cruelty, when Cel couldn’t see her. It put her, in all senses of the phrase, in her element. So she smoothed it gently over Cel’s eyes, rested a hand on the back of their neck as she gathered herself, then forced them down into a bow, face pressed against the floor, ass in the air. Cel made a soft sound through their gag and Sasha patted their hair before standing and sweeping over to the array of toys Cel had laid out earlier. She made an effort to make noise as she chose a few, for Cel’s benefit.

When she returned to Cel’s side, they were humming something under their breath, and stopped short when Sasha ran a finger along their spine. The shirt they were wearing was threadbare, more scorch marks than unmarred fabric, and Sasha slipped her knife under the collar of it with relish, cutting it open to reveal the comparatively smooth skin of Cel’s back. Cel sighed, and it turned into a moan as Sasha dragged the point of her knife down their spine, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for them to feel the potential sting of it, enough for them to keep their hips still as Sasha pressed the flat of it between their thighs.

It sent another spike of pride through her, that Cel trusted her, even like this. That they would lie still and helpless while she was at their back with a blade. She ghosted the steel of her dagger over them, barely enough pressure to tease, and they babbled something incoherent into their gag, hands clenching into fists where they were bound at their sides. With a flick of her wrist, Sasha popped open a seam in Cel’s trousers.

Sasha wriggled a finger into the hole she’d cut in the fabric, rubbing lightly, pleased when she touched bare skin. Cel’s breath caught and held, their thighs flexing, and they exhaled in a whine when Sasha pulled away. Sasha stroked a thumb over the curve of their ass and used the tip of her dagger to cut open Cel’s trousers completely.

Sasha pulled back, humming thoughtfully, eyes raking over Cel. They were trembling, muscles tensed up with want and anticipation, their breath coming quick and hard. Their clothes hung off them in rags, pinned in place with ropes, and Sasha thought she liked that even more than just the ropes, liked that she had gotten to expose as much of Cel as she liked; she circled the ragged tear in Cel’s pants with a fingertip, just barely swiping over fevered skin.

They’d opted for a cunt today, glistening wet even though Sasha had hardly touched them. Sasha slid both hands up Cel’s thighs and tugged their lips apart with her thumbs, splaying them open; Cel made a noise into their gag that might have been _“Sasha,”_ or might have been _“please.”_ Sasha huffed out a laugh, leaned in, and licked gently at them, just once; they made the noise again, more urgently this time.

Licking her lips, Sasha leaned back, running her fingertips over the array of devices she’d brought over from Cel’s workbench. A few she had used before. One or two were new. She picked up one she had grown particularly fond of - it was pleasantly textured and vibrated when she clicked it on - then hummed discontentedly and replaced it. Cel was still tense and shivering all over, mumbling into their gag every now and then; Sasha could almost hear the gears in their head turning, growing hot with overuse.

A hard time tonight, they’d said. There was a rhythm to this. Cel had tried to explain lightning to Sasha once, about how it was an imbalance of energy, a charge that needed to go somewhere. Sasha picked up one of the new toys, something Cel had been tinkering with earlier in the week, a long metallic wand with a tiny elemental crystal at the base. When she brushed her fingers over the top, they tingled.

The wand sparked when Sasha tapped it between Cel’s legs, and they cried out in shock. (Sasha would have been prouder of the pun if she weren’t busy pulling back in a panic.) “Sorry, sorry, was that - ”

Cel panted against the floor, straining briefly against their bonds, then their upper body sagged and their hips tilted up. Sasha ran her fingertips over their clit in a comforting circle. “Sorry,” she said again. “Lemme try that again.”

She was slower this time, guiding the tip of the wand between her fingers to rub against Cel’s clit. No sparking this time, just a faint buzzing, and Cel moaned, hips rocking forward. Sasha could almost feel it, the rapid flow of power pulsing through the wand into Cel’s body; she moved the wand in a tight circle around their hole, followed it with her fingertips, and almost thought she could feel their skin tingling in the aftermath. Slowly, cautiously, watching Cel for any sign of discomfort, she sank the wand into their cunt.

They pushed back against her, keening into their gag, and Sasha put a hand high on their thigh to keep the whole thing from fucking into them at once. “Easy,” she muttered. She rubbed at their clit again, not with intent, just to soothe, to give them something to focus on, but Cel let out a muffled cry anyway and clenched rhythmically around the wand, hips rolling. Sasha’s eyebrows arched in surprise, but she held still, let them ride out their orgasm.

When Cel had stopped writhing, Sasha slowly began to pump the wand in and out of them, tight little thrusts that they moaned in time with, high and pleading.

Cel whined when Sasha eased the wand out of them, then let out a throaty moan as she tapped it against their clit; the spark didn’t take either of them by surprise this time, and Sasha sank two fingers into Cel’s cunt and did it again, and again, and again, sending jolt after jolt of electricity into them. She felt their muscles seize each time, felt it when they clenched tight and came again, legs shaking.

They were still tense, still rocking back against her. She kept going.

She held the wand against them, kept up a steady stream of stimulation, and they ground clumsily against it. They had stopped babbling into the gag and had started groaning, low and throaty. Sasha twitched her fingers, rubbed against their soft insides, watching intently. “Come on,” she whispered. “Be good. C’mon, one more for me.”

She tapped the wand, harder than she had, against Cel’s cunt. It crackled; Cel cried out; Sasha scrambled to catch their hips before they collapsed completely, laughing a little wildly.

Sasha eased the gag from Cel’s lips. She left the ropes and blindfold. Wanted to stay in the dark a moment longer, to look at them without them seeing her do it. “Wow,” Cel said, dazed and breathless. “That was - ha - wow.” Sasha ran a hand curiously over Cel’s cunt; it was soaked and open and hot, and Cel bit their lip, hips twisting in a complicated movement, not into her touch but not quite away from it, either. “Um,” they said, and then fell silent again.

Sasha glanced over at the other toys she’d picked out, then back at Cel. They weren’t as tense as they had been. She ran one finger around their clit, swollen with blood, and they whimpered, burying their face in her neck. “Sasha,” they breathed.

If they could manage her name, Sasha reckoned, they could stand to have a little more energy burned off, and reached for the vibrator she’d discarded earlier. 


End file.
